


That's Amore

by mmaree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Chocolate, Dubious Automotive Science, Fluff and Humor, Language, Liam Payne & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mechanic Liam, Mild Sexual Content, Pining Liam, Pizza, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmaree/pseuds/mmaree
Summary: Every time Liam closes his eyes, he sees those amber-flecked hazels, and he wonders just how long it takes to get over loving someone you’ve barely met.A story about love, pizza, and learning you miss every opportunity you don’t take.





	That's Amore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunnysideup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysideup/gifts).



> Written for the incredibly lovely and talented Toni [(sunnysideup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysideup/pseuds/sunnysideup) for [The Ziam Club's](https://theziamclub.tumblr.com/) Ziam Valentine's Day Gift Exchange. Happy Valentine's, love, and I hope you enjoy! ~Maree xx
> 
> Prompt:  
> \- Liam vowed six weeks ago he wouldn’t buy any pizzas again cause a) he’s skint and b) he’s going to turn into one. It’s not his fault the pizza delivery man has a smile that lights up his night. Something has to change….  
> \- Word prompts: chocolate, dinner date
> 
> **There is now a Russian translation of this fic, and you can read it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8344213).  
> 

 

“One heart-shaped pizza with double jalapeno,” the gruff-voiced man on the phone says, repeating Liam’s order back to him.  “Should be there in 60 to 70 minutes, kid.”

Liam’s about to open his mouth, about to reply that he never said anything about a _heart-shaped_ pizza—he didn’t even know such things existed—when the man rings off. 

He stares dumbfounded at his home screen, hoping it might provide him with some answers, answers to questions like _‘do they actually make heart-shaped pizzas?’_ and _‘why would he, one of Pizza Heaven’s most loyal customers, want anything besides the standard, tried-and-true, circle-shaped pie?’_   But then, Liam freezes as the realisation hits him:

It’s Valentine’s Day. 

 _Of course_ it’s Valentine’s Day—how could he forget?  Liam groans loudly, collapsing into a chair and feeling like a right idiot.  He’s been working extra hours at the auto centre lately, what with the crazy winter weather, but it’s hardly an excuse.  The fact is that it just wasn’t on his radar, mostly because he hasn’t gone on an actual date for a long time.  (Or according to his mum and Louis, an incredibly-embarrassing-bordering-on-mildly-concerning long time.)

But the point is, if only Liam could have remembered it was Valentine’s, it would have saved him from making an ass of himself in front of his crush in just under 60 to 70 minutes.

Because the thing is…Liam’s sort of in love with the pizza delivery guy, and as daft as it sounds, said pizza delivery guy is out of his league.

WAY out of his league.

Okay, so it’s not like Liam’s a scrub.  He’s not exactly hideous-looking, and he’s got a job.  He’s training to be a mechanic—a proper one, too.  No, the real issue is that he’s human and every human pales in comparison to the celestial being the universe sent to his door with a double jalapeno pizza six weeks ago.  The guy’s proper fit—like, distractingly fit.  His voice is distracting as well, a smoky, melodic Yorkshire lilt that sings in Liam’s ears long after he’s gone.  And admittedly, Liam knows next to nothing about the man aside from his views on traffic and the weather, that he’s polite, and that he works Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.  Even so, Liam can tell he’s far too clever to remain Pizza Heaven’s delivery guy for long. 

Liam guesses he’s still in uni since he mentioned something about revising for exams when Liam had the courage to say he looked rather knackered one night (but not the courage to say _‘why don’t you come in and relax a while’_ ).  That’s all Liam knows about Fit Pizza Delivery Guy because he’s usually too busy trying not to stare at the guy’s chiselled cheekbones, amber-flecked hazels, inked bronzed skin, and colour-of-the-week quiff.  And then there’s his _smile_ —part cheeky, part Prince Valiant.  Liam spends half his free time daydreaming about that smile and the other half thinking up ways to bring it back.

Liam doesn’t even know the guy’s name, but he knows he’s the one (in his dreams anyway).

Liam also knows that he really needs to kerb his pizza habit before it becomes (more of) a problem.  He’s skint, and he doesn’t even _like_ pizza that much—well, not enough to order it as much as he does.

But he’s got more pressing concerns at the moment, such as preventing Fit Pizza Delivery Guy from thinking he’s some poor sod who orders heart-shaped pizzas for himself on Valentine’s Day.

Liam’s ready with plenty of time to spare.  He’s got his hair styled, his best polo on (the forest green one that hugs his chest and biceps just so), and a fib on his lips about his date arriving later.  He sits down and waits.  Ten minutes go by, then fifteen.  He checks his watch, does some quick figuring, and realises his pizza is late which is…weird. 

Finally, Liam hears the knock he’s been waiting for, but when he swings the door open, Fit Pizza Delivery Guy’s not there.  Instead, it’s a spotty kid with a blonde fringe and an oversized anorak.  Liam’s about to shoo him away when he spies the cardboard box in the kid’s hands.   

“You order the double jalapeno?” the kid asks in a bored voice.

Liam nods cautiously, wonders why there’s an imposter at his door with his exact pizza order.  The kid shoves the box at him, then stands there slouching, waiting for a tip.  And although Liam is the type to tip everyone, from bartenders to bin collectors at Christmas, the kid was late, the box is lukewarm (at best), and more importantly, he’s not Fit Pizza Delivery Guy (which isn’t exactly his fault but _still_ ).

“Where’s…?”  Liam stops and frowns, remembering he hasn’t a clue as to what his regular delivery guy’s name is. 

Luckily, Fit Pizza Delivery Guy’s replacement gets what he’s driving at.  “Zayn?”

“Yes, Zayn,” Liam repeats, somehow certain that it’s Fit Pizza Delivery Guy’s name.  “Where’s Zayn?”

“Dunno…had the night off, I guess,” the kid answers before grinning wolfishly.  “Listen, mate—if I looked like Zayn, I wouldn’t be faffing about, delivering bloody pizzas on Valentine’s Day neither.”

Liam attempts a smile, gives the kid 50p to make sure he goes away, and shuts the door.  He sets the pizza box on the table and opens the lid.  As it turns out, the pizza actually _is_ shaped like a wonky heart, but it only depresses Liam more as he slumps into the closest chair.

He’s gutted.  He has no right to be gutted, but he is.  He was daft to think someone like Zayn wouldn’t have a date on Valentine’s Day.

Liam tries not to think about it as he nibbles at his cold, heart-shaped pizza.  Alone.  In silence.  On Valentine’s Day. 

It’s an all-time low.  Even for him.

 

♥♥♥

 

It’s slow for a change, just one car in the garage.  Liam likes working here, likes fixing things and getting his hands dirty.

Besides, no matter how difficult a car is, it’s infinitely less difficult than trying to figure out people.

At the moment, Niall’s helping him put in a carburettor while Louis…supervises.  (Louis already has his NVQ3, and he takes full advantage of that fact whenever possible.  Still, Liam looks up to the older boy, always has.)  For the most part though, Louis has been telling them all the details about his first date with Harry, the kid who works at the flower shop down the road.  Niall keeps laughing, interjecting comments about his own date last night.

Liam smiles as he works.  He enjoys the camaraderie of his mates, the humdrum of their conversation playing like a background reel as he tries to remember the correct way to install a carburettor.  It’s not often he gets to work on a carburettor—Niall and him usually get stuck with the simple jobs like batteries, brakes, alignments, and oil changes—so he has to pay closer attention to what he’s doing.  Every now and then, Louis interrupts his story with a quick “tighten her up, mate” or “mind the bonnet there, Horan, or Payno’s gonna end up with a wicked headache.”

Finally, the job’s done.  Louis inspects their work, then straightens up and gives Liam a slap on the back that almost sends him sprawling into the carburettor he’s only just installed. 

“Well done, lads,” Louis says with an approving nod.  “Well done indeed.  And _now_ , Payno can give us the run-down of how _he_ spent his Valentine’s Day while Horan tidies up.”

“Piss off,” Niall shoots back good-naturedly, but he starts putting away tools anyway.  “Oi, why do I have to clean up?”

“Because Payno did most of the work.”

Niall shrugs.  “Fair enough.”

“So…Payno,” Louis resumes, “tell us about your night.”

“Nothing to tell, really.  Just stayed in, mate.”

“Right-ho,” Louis replies before turning to Niall.  “It’s complete tosh, Horan.  He was probably out on a proper bender, this one.  It’s always the quiet ones,” Louis proclaims with a wink.  “Never trust the quiet ones.”

Liam fights against the blush rising to his cheeks.  “No, I’m serious.  I did absolutely nothing.  Like, all I did the whole night was watch telly and order a pizza.”

Niall shakes a spanner at him.  “Oi, if you keep ordering pizzas, you’re gonna turn into one.”

They all laugh and Liam joins in.  He can take a joke.  Besides it’s not like Niall’s far wrong.  But then Louis stops laughing abruptly.  The older boy scratches his chin and squints his eyes like he’s thinking hard.

And Louis Tomlinson thinking hard is always worrisome.

“It’s the pizza delivery guy!” Louis exclaims, breaking into a devilish grin.  “You want to bloody shag him, don’t you?”

Liam feels the colour drain from his face.  “Of course not!”

“Of course not what?” Louis snorts, seeing through him as he always does.  Liam doesn’t know why he even bothers keeping things from his best mate anymore.  Louis always sniffs out the truth eventually.

“Of course I don’t want to shag Zayn,” Liam sputters.  He’s thought about it of course, once or twice, but that’s _definitely_ none of Louis’ business.

“Zayn?” Louis smirks, and Liam knows he’s been caught.  “You obviously fancy him though.  He’s the one you were blethering about the other night at Wetherspoon’s, innit he?”

Liam doesn’t deny it, and Niall’s eyes widen. 

“You fancy your pizza delivery guy?”

“Tell us about his delivery, Payno,” Louis teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.  “Does he serve it up piping hot?  Does he always _come_ on time?  Does he—ahem—ring your bell?”

Niall guffaws loudly while Louis just sits there looking proper chuffed with himself.  Even the tips of Liam’s ears are burning with embarrassment now. 

Luckily, their boss walks in then, saving Liam from Louis’ piss-taking.

(For now.)                       

 

♥♥♥

 

The next evening that Zayn is supposed to work, Liam orders a pizza.  Again, someone else shows up at his flat, and she informs him Zayn’s no longer working for Pizza Heaven.  Liam really doesn’t want the pizza—doesn’t even want to look at it—but he takes it anyway because his mum raised him better than that.

He manages to get down one slice.  It tastes like disappointment.

 

♥♥♥

 

It’s a bulb.  A fucking bulb replacement on a Renault, and Liam can’t work out how to get behind the blasted headlamp for the life of him.  He’s spent fifteen minutes craning his neck this way and that, contorting his body in an effort to sort out the best way to change the bloody thing.  He’s decided he’s going to need to take out the entire engine.  Or the front bumper.  Maybe both.

And of course there’s no manual.  Of fucking course.

Liam scans the shop, but everyone’s either under a car or with a customer—not that he’s looking forward to asking for help _on a fucking bulb replacement_.  The other lads will have a proper go at him, laugh him right out of the garage probably. 

He sets his torch down and glares at the vehicle in front of him.  Right now, he hates bulbs, hates cars, and he _really_ hates stupidly attractive pizza delivery drivers who just vanish into thin air when you were quite possibly thinking about asking them out the next time you saw them.

Louis must sense his frustration because he leaves the Mini Cooper he was working on and walks clear across the garage.  “Having some trouble with the bulb replacement I gave ya?” he asks like it’s not a surprise, like he was almost _expecting_ it.

Liam narrows his eyes.  “You sabotaged me, didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it ‘sabotage,’ mate.  But yeah, Meganes are a bitch to switch bulbs on.”

Liam breathes through his nose.  “So if you already knew that, why didn’t you warn me?”

“Trying to prove a point, Payno,” Louis replies cheerfully.  “The simplest repair can be difficult on the right car and vice-versa.”  He punches Liam’s arm.  “So don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it, no matter how elementary you think the job is.”

Liam’s sure he’ll be grateful for Louis’ lesson one day in the near future, but that day isn’t quite today.  “Got it,” he says tightly.  “Will do next time.”

“Good, now I’m going to show you the easiest way to change that bulb, but we’ll have to jack her up and remove the wheel.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow at his friend.  “Removing the wheel is the _easy_ way?”

“Yep,” Louis answers with a crooked smile as he leans against the car.  “Told you Meganes were a bitch.”

Fifteen minutes later, the new bulb’s in but Liam’s still in a funk. 

“Hey, y’alright?” Louis checks in with him.  “You’re not still sore are you?”

“About the car?  No, of course not.”

Louis hums, looks thoughtful.  “Hope you didn’t mind the bants from the other day, was just having a laugh with my favourite lad….”  His tone is light and airy, but he’s watching Liam closely, like he cares deeply about his feelings, like he’d throw himself in front of a lorry if he ever truly hurt his best mate.

“Nah, it’s not that,” Liam reassures him.  “It’s…well, you were right…about the pizza guy.”    

Louis grins.  “Well, fuck me.  Payno’s in love.”

“I’m not in love, Louis.  I don’t even know the guy.”

Louis claps him on the back.  “We’ll have to correct that then.”

“Can’t,” Liam despairs.

“Why don’t you just straight up ask him out the next time you order a pizza?” Louis suggests (as if it were that simple).  “If it’s awkward or he says no, just don’t order from Pizza Hell again.  But just to let you know, if _I_ were him and you weren’t like a brother to me, I’d definitely shag you,” he says solemnly, leaning against a support as he gives his best mate a once-over.  “You’re quite shaggable, you know, with that white vest and jeans look.  It’s not even ten fucking degrees in this garage, and you’re over here with your guns out, work shirt tied around your waist, giving the birds waiting for their oil changes a proper show.”

“It’s hot,” Liam protests, blushing anyway.  “Stop taking the piss, mate.”

“I’m not; just have a gander yourself,” he invites, gesturing towards the large window looking into the waiting area.  True enough, there are a couple of girls watching them and giggling.  They look away a moment after Liam spots them. 

“They were probably looking at you.”

“Not likely with those rippling muscles of yours on display,” Louis scoffs.  “Besides, you get a small audience of admirers almost daily.  Niall swears he’s gonna start selling tickets if he ever needs some extra cash.”

“Why did you tell me that?” Liam moans, hiding his face.  It doesn’t help to know he might have an audience every time he mucks up something (which seems to be a lot lately).

Louis slings an arm around his shoulder.  “Because my oblivious best mate, you need to understand that if this Zayn dude is into guys, he’d have to be mad to turn you down.  Just saying, if you’re really into him, you should go for it.”

“Alright, alright…you’ve convinced me,” Liam says, shrugging off his friend’s shoulder so he can clean up.  “I’ll ask him out the next time I see him.”

“Then why do you still look miserable?”

Liam’s frown deepens as he thinks about the once-in-a-lifetime chance he probably blew.  “Because I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

 

♥♥♥

 

Liam rings up Pizza Heaven early the following afternoon, and emboldened by his talk with his best mate, he bluntly asks if Zayn is working that night.  He isn’t, and as Liam feared, Zayn no longer works at Pizza Heaven.  His last day was two days before Valentine’s, and the manager won’t give out any additional information.

And that is that.

At least that’s what Liam tells himself as he lies awake at night, kicking himself for waiting too long, for not acting sooner.  Then, he tells himself that it wouldn’t have made a difference even if he had asked Zayn out, that Zayn never would have agreed to have gone out with _Liam_ in the first place. 

But every time Liam closes his eyes, he sees those amber-flecked hazels, and he wonders just how long it takes to get over loving someone you’ve barely met.

 

♥♥♥

 

Two weeks later, Liam learns that it takes longer than a fortnight.

In that time, he’s called every single pizza joint in town, inquiring if a ‘Zayn’ works there.  Slowly but surely, Liam comes to the realisation that he isn’t going to find Zayn, that all Zayn will ever be to him is ‘the one that got away.’ 

And then he rings Pizza Heaven and orders a double jalapeno pizza.  For old time’s sake.

 

♥♥♥

 

The muscles in Liam’s arms are starting to burn as he finishes waxing a Jag.  It’s an XJ8 in racing green, a true classic although Liam prefers black.  (Liam almost always prefers black.)  It’s gleaming by the time he’s done with it, showing off every beautiful line, every gorgeous curve.  He takes the rag and polishes off the chrome ornament on the bonnet, then steps back to admire his work.  He feels hot, feels as if he’s just finished a workout.  He can’t find a clean towel so he uses his shirt, lifting it up to wipe the sweat off his brow.  When he pulls his shirt down again, Louis is standing there, an amused, cocky grin on his face.

“You know this isn’t a detailing service, right?”

“Of course,” Liam shrugs.  “It’s just we’re not busy and—”

“You thought you’d give the Liam Payne Fan Club a late Valentine’s present?” Louis quips, eying Liam’s white shirt, rolled-up short sleeves, and chest area drenched in sweat.  “That was quite a show for the ladies—and gents as well—my dear, Payno.  Thought you were gonna take off your kit for a second there, but maybe you save the full monty for Friday nights?”

Liam rolls his eyes. 

“Oi!” Niall shouts out even though he’s only a few meters away, “I thought we weren’t going to tell him about that?”

“About his growing fan club?  Sorry, had to, mate,” Louis apologises, looking far from sorry.  “It was life or death and all that rot.”  

“I still don’t think you should have told him,” Niall pouts, and Liam doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying to be supportive or because he really was mad enough to think he could sell bloody tickets.

Louis clucks sympathetically.  “Shame no one asked for your opinion, Horan.”

“Ugh, can we change the subject?” Liam pleads.  He’s been trying to forget about the whole silly thing since Louis first mentioned it a few weeks ago, and he’s mostly succeeded.  His mates were just mixed-up…or something.  After all, Liam was just… _Liam._  

“Fine,” Louis agrees amiably before putting on his supervisor voice.  “Who wants the full service that just came in 15 minutes ago?”

“15 minutes ago?” Liam repeats, feeling guilty that he’s been messing about waxing cars when there was real work to be done.  “Has the customer been waiting?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be bothered about that—he seems to be enjoying himself,” Louis snickers.  “Think he’s a new member of your fan club, Payno.  You should’ve seen the look on his face when you lifted up your shirt.  I thought the poor bloke was gonna have a heart attack.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Liam groans, too embarrassed to look at the window or at his best mate.  “You’re probably having me on anyway.”

“Don’t look now,” Niall warns merrily, “but he’s still staring.”

“ _Ogling_ is the proper word.  Handsome fucker, too,” Louis whistles, but Liam still isn’t taking the bait.  “Might make you forget about pizza boy, Payno.”

“I did forget about him, Louis,” Liam lies.  “And anyway, Zayn’s not a boy.  He’s our age.”

Louis rolls his eyes.  “Pizza _man_ , then.  All I’m saying is that a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, mate.”

Niall scratches his head.  “But I didn’t think Liam fancied birds…?”

Louis gives the Irishman a long-suffering look.  “ _Anyway_ , this dude’s here, Payno, and he’s definitely interested.  That’s all I’m saying.”

Liam just shrugs.  He’s not going to give them the satisfaction of looking over at the window; he’s not that stupid.  There probably isn’t anyone there, and even if there is, it’s probably someone old enough to be his grandad or something.  “I’ll do the car,” he volunteers, wanting to get on with it.  “Where is it?”

“It’s parked outside; I’ll drive it in for you,” Louis offers.  “Hey, Horan, why don’t you get that bloke inside a drink?  He’s looking right thirsty to me,” he says cheekily.  “What do you think, mate?  He look thirsty to you, too?”

Niall, of course, is too busy sniggering to answer.

Two minutes later, Louis drives a green Peugeot into a bay, and Liam guesses green is the colour of the day.  Louis steps out of the driver’s seat and gives a few last-minute instructions:

“Make sure you get his motor lubed up and purring like a kitten, Payno.  We want him to be _fully_ satisfied with our full service.”

“Cheers,” Liam deadpans.  “You can go away now, Louis.  I’ve got it from here.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Louis smirks.  “Well, I’ll just leave everything in your _very_ capable hands then. Cheerio, Payno!”

 

♥♥♥

 

Liam buttons up his blue work shirt—they’re supposed to have it on when they meet with customers—and waits impatiently by the car he’s just finished.  It took a little longer than expected, but Liam wanted to make sure everything was in perfect order, especially since it was a slightly older model.  But now, Liam’s shift is technically over, and he wants to leave as soon as possible so he can get home and do…well, nothing. 

Still, it’s better to be miserable at home than miserable at work.  Sort of.

After another minute, the door to the garage opens and out walks a man with chiselled cheekbones, amber-flecked hazels, inked bronzed skin, and a scruffy black quiff.

And Liam almost pisses himself.

“Hi,” Zayn says almost shyly.  He bites his lip and sticks out a hand.  “I’m Zayn.”

They connect eyes, connect hands, and Liam feels a spark—not a gentle spark of static electricity but something more: a jolt, like the first time he tried to jump a car with his dad and accidentally switched the wires.  He remembers being awed by the sparking, by the tremendous heat radiating off the battery before his dad pushed him to safety and disconnected the cables.

He searches Zayn’s eyes, looking for that sign of recognition he thought he spotted as the other man approached him, but now he’s not so sure.  He’d think Zayn would _have_ to recognise him with as much as Liam ordered from Pizza Heaven, but then again, Liam doesn’t think he’s got that memorable of a face.  He’s just… _Liam_.  Besides, he probably looks different in the garage, hair mussed and clothes covered with motor oil and God knows what else.

At least his hands are clean.    

Liam clears his throat.  “I’m—”

“Double jalapeno pizza,” Zayn cuts him off, eyes as bright as the sun and twice as blinding.

Liam grins so hard his cheeks hurt.  “That’s right!”

Zayn runs a hand through his dark quiff and nods, an enigmatic smile playing at his lips.  “Uh…Liam, right?”

Liam can’t believe Zayn actually remembered his name.  It makes him want to do a dozen star jumps on the spot because _Zayn remembers him_.  He catches Louis’ eye from across the garage and sees his best mate is making encouraging, slightly rude gestures at him.  Instead of actually encouraging Liam, however, they have the opposite effect.  They bring him back down to Earth.  They remind him that he’s in the garage, that he’s got a job to do, and Zayn…Zayn’s a customer who expects a run-down of the services just performed on his car.

It’s no big deal that Zayn remembers his name.  It doesn’t _mean_ anything.  In fact, Liam had ordered from Pizza Heaven enough where even someone with a shit memory could probably recall his name and order.  (It wasn’t like he changed it up ever.)

And oh.  His shirt.  Liam’s got his name embroidered on his shirt, and now he just feels like a massive dumbass.

He hasn’t got time to be embarrassed right now, hasn’t got time for silly juvenile crushes either, because he’s got a job to do and Zayn’s looking at him expectantly.  “Yes, my name’s Liam,” he says in his best customer service voice, “and I’ll be covering what we checked on your vehicle today.  First of all, you received a complimentary tyre rotation. Pressure’s good now and your treads are decent, but I’d think about replacing those two back tyres, especially within the next 10,000 miles or so….”

Liam moves on to talk about the oil change, and he impresses himself with how easy it is for him to forget about everything else when he’s talking shop.  He gets the impression that he’s rambling on, talking a little too fast as he’s prone to do when he’s running on nerves and adrenaline.  In any case, Zayn doesn’t seem to be following him completely.  His hazel eyes don’t look quite as bright as normal and his lips form a thin line that’s closer to a frown than a smile. 

Liam stops talking.  “Got all that?  I’ve got a summary sheet here, but please ring us if you have any questions.”  He shoves the yellow paper at Zayn as his embarrassment floods back in full force.

“Yeah…cheers,” Zayn says quietly.  He takes the paper, the keys Liam hands him, and climbs into his car.  When he starts to drive off, Liam is almost glad because it’s getting to the point where the embarrassment is wearing off, leaving him with a tender, raw ache that he doesn’t want to put a name on.

Liam doesn’t watch Zayn drive out of the garage; he can’t.  He covers his eyes with the heels of his palms and decides this isn’t a dream after all as he tries to pull himself together.

He becomes aware of the sounds of an engine growing louder, and he drops his hands.  His mouth drops, too, as he watches the green Peugeot back up and come to a complete stop in front of him, exactly where it had been only a minute ago.

Zayn rolls down the window.  “I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to, you know, hang out sometime maybe?”

Liam’s heart thumps in his chest.  He feels hot, feels overdressed or underdressed or _something_ as he stares back at the man in the car.  “Hang out?”

A pink dusting dances across perfect cheekbones.  “Yeah, or we could make it…a date?  Like, it’s totally cool if you’re not, like, into that…or me…or, uh, yeah,” Zayn finishes awkwardly, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  His other hand plays with the gear-lever, and bloody hell, Liam’s never been that jealous of a gear-lever in his entire life.

“I’d like that,” Liam replies, tearing his eyes away from Zayn’s hands, “a date, I mean.”

Zayn looks as though he’s about to melt with relief.  “Tomorrow too soon?”

“Tomorrow’s perfect.”

“Sick.”  Zayn looks chuffed to bits as he pulls up his contacts.  “What’s your number?”

Zayn drives away soon after he gets Liam’s number, promising to text him later that night so they can work out all the details.  The exhaust hasn’t cleared before Louis is scampering towards him, a triumphant ‘I-told-you-so’ in his blue eyes.

“What I tell you, man?” Louis whoops, fist-bumping him.  “Knew he was into you—should’ve seen the way he was watching you through the window,” Louis tells him, and it completely blows Liam’s mind, that.  (All of it actually.)  “So what’s the handsome fucker’s name?”

“That’s Zayn, Louis.”

“ _That’s_ Zayn?” Louis sputters, looking positively gobsmacked as they both watch the car take a left turn and disappear out of sight.  “Well, fuck me.  Ain’t that proper jammy?”

 

♥♥♥

 

They meet at a restaurant Zayn suggested.  All he told Liam via text was that it was a bit on the posh side.  As soon as Liam walks into the place, all rich browns and warm woods, he sees Zayn wasn’t lying.  It’s cosy though, too, with a crackling fireplace and soft candlelight.  Still, he’s glad he decided to wear his best pair of black jeans and a button-up black shirt this evening. 

Zayn’s waiting for him, also wearing black but paired with a striking royal blue jacket.  His hair is styled back in its usual quiff; however, a few wisps of hair fall gently against his honey-coloured skin, and Liam wonders if that was intentional or not.  (If it wasn’t, it should have been, he thinks.)

“Hope you like fondue,” Zayn says nervously, running a hand through his dark quiff, and now Liam knows how those loose strands escaped.  “Shit, probably should’ve asked you.  Fancy grabbing a pizza instead or—?”

“Ugh, no,” Liam interrupts him, grimacing.  “I don’t even like pizza that much.”

Zayn looks circumspect for a moment, and Liam wants to kick himself because he’s an idiot.  But then, Zayn just smiles, that tongue-between-the-teeth smile that makes Liam glow inside, and he stops worrying.  Liam may have revealed a completely humiliating fact about himself but if whatever he said elicited that smile, then it was damn well worth it.

The moment they’re seated, there’s almost an argument when Zayn tells him he’s paying for dinner.  After some struggle, Liam relents, hoping he’ll be able to return the favour next time.  They do compromise somewhat, Zayn letting him buy the wine, and Liam splurges a little, ordering a proper bottle of wine.  (He figures why not.  He got paid yesterday, and it’s amazing how much longer his paycheque seems to stretch when he isn’t buying pizzas three times a week.)

Zayn shuffles his silverware around, and Liam plays with the stem of his glass until the waiter returns with the wine.

Liam clears his throat.  “So…uh…how’d you hear about this place?” he inquires politely.  He still has the new date jitters, and he’s never been very good at this, so he resolves to stick with easy topics for now.  He sips his wine, hoping it will help take the edge off because he _really_ wants Zayn to like him.  Liam tries not to think about that, though, because he knows he’s only putting pressure on himself.  Still, he doesn’t want to muck this up.

Zayn looks as if he’s been caught, and Liam wonders how a simple question like ‘how’d you hear about this place?’ could backfire so.  He’s almost thinking about taking the question back or changing the subject when Zayn coughs.

“Actually, a guy took me on a date here a couple of years ago.”

_Oh._

“How’d it go?” Liam asks, voice catching a little because he feels an irrational bubble of jealousy when he thinks of someone else taking Zayn out, no matter how long ago it was.

Zayn blushes.  “It was a first date,” he confesses.  “Honestly, the only thing I liked about it was this restaurant.”

Liam chuckles.  He feels a warm trickle of hope in his chest, like maybe he could give Zayn the first date here he deserves.  (Like maybe he could give Zayn more than that, too.)

They order—or Zayn does actually since he seems to know his way around the unconventional menu.  He keeps checking with Liam the whole time the waiter’s there, making sure he likes this or that, even though Liam keeps telling him he’s not really picky.  After the waiter leaves, Liam pours another glass of wine for each of them.  They both sip this one slowly, pacing themselves before the food arrives.

Zayn already has a rosy glow about his cheeks; the amber flecks in his eyes seem to dance in the candlelight.  “You, uh, won’t believe this,” he says with a tinkle of laughter, “but I’ve sort of been crushing on you since the day we met, but like, I didn’t want to be that creep who hits on the bloke he’s delivering a pizza to.”

Liam can hardly believe his ears.  “Yeah, I completely get it,” he admits.  “ _I_ didn’t want to be that creep who hits on the pizza delivery guy.”

Zayn laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound.  Somehow, Liam knows right then and there that if he wasn’t in love with this man before, he is now.

Their cheese fondue arrives, and Zayn doesn’t waste any time in stabbing a piece of crusty bread with his skewer and dipping it into the pot.  “Scrummy, isn’t it?” Zayn asks, eyes closing in ecstasy as he savours the first bite.  He swallows it, neck bobbing, and makes a barely audible moan when he’s done.  And after watching that, Liam doesn’t know how he’s going to last through dinner.  He really doesn’t.

They dig in, and Liam has to agree that the fondue is delicious.  Once, their hands brush together as they go to dip something into the cheese fondue at the same time, and Liam feels that undeniable spark again.

With the way Zayn looks at him then, Liam suspects he feels it, too.

During the course of their meal, Zayn tells him why he quit Pizza Heaven, saying it was just too much with finishing his teaching degree, and he’s been saving up anyway.  He loves kids and wants to teach art at a primary school, and Liam wonders how someone could be more perfect.  He wonders, too, how someone this perfect could possibly be interested in him.

But Zayn is, and Liam’s not going to question it anymore.  (He’ll try not to anyway.)

Dessert arrives, a heavenly-smelling chocolate fondue, and this time the dipping plates hold an array of fruits, biscuits, profiteroles, and more.  The rest of the evening passes quickly, like all good things do.  They talk about their shared interest in music, about the geeky things they both love, about how close they are with their families.  They talk, and eat chocolate-dipped berries, and drink wine, and enjoy each other’s company.

“I had a really lovely time tonight,” Zayn says softly.  He inches his hand farther up the table so that it sweeps across Liam’s.  They lock eyes, and Liam wonders if it’s too soon to ask.  On the other hand, he feels reckless, and he’s not sure if it’s the wine, or the candlelight, or the warmth of Zayn’s eyes.  It’s mad because Liam’s not one to take chances, not usually.

But for _this_ , he is.

“Wanna come back to mine?” Liam asks, hesitant but hopeful, heart hammering in his chest.

“My place is closer.”

 

♥♥♥

 

It is.  Zayn’s flat is walking distance from the restaurant which is a relief on multiple levels, but mostly because Liam cherishes the chance to breathe a little fresh air.  They skip down the pavement, holding hands and giggling like teenagers; they’re drunk on wine, and the night, and something that feels a lot like love.

They kiss beneath a lamppost.  Zayn makes a soft, sighing sound when the tip of Liam’s tongue parts the seam of his lips.  They open, invite him in; warm, wet, and welcoming.  Liam drags his tongue along the roof of Zayn’s mouth, cups the other boy’s face as fingers dig into his waist and pull him closer.  The world goes away for a few precious seconds as he tastes the sweetness on Zayn’s lips, tastes the chocolate and strawberries, the decadence and tartness.  

They make love on Zayn’s bed.  It’s not rushed like sex on a first date often is, all need and lust and selfish desire.  No, it’s slow, soft, gentle, passionate.  It’s as if they both know they have all the time in the world, all the time there is. 

Lips explore, hands roam; they discover each other’s bodies with the same keenness they had discovering each other’s stories at dinner.  They’re in no rush.  After all, they have nowhere to go but each other’s arms.  (There’s no place they’d rather be.)

At long last, Zayn comes with a sigh, a satisfied whimper that sends Liam over the edge. 

Afterwards, Zayn is curled into him, head on Liam’s naked chest, finger scrawling calligraphic designs on his bare stomach.  When the dawn begins to break through Zayn’s window, colouring the bedsheets with a rosy-purple hue, Zayn asks him to stay.

Liam does because he wants to, but also because something in the other man’s voice sounds a lot more like ‘forever’ than ‘tonight.’

 

♥♥♥

 

**_/ Eleven Months Later /_ **

 

Liam feels as if he’s being watched.  He stops putting his tools away and glances up at the window into the waiting area.  Zayn looks gorgeous as ever, dressed in a cranberry jumper that accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waist.  Zayn’s got his nose pressed to the glass, making googly-eyes and pulling faces like a kid.  Liam can’t hold back a laugh as he hurriedly finishes up.  Before leaving the garage area, he waves goodbye to the other mechanics and technicians still there.

The auto centre is closed, so he assumes Zayn must have slid in just before closing time.  The lobby area is deserted at the moment, so they steal a quick kiss when no one’s looking.

“You got grease on me,” Zayn whinges playfully, wiping at a smudge on his cheek.

“It’ll go well with the pink paint on your other cheek then,” Liam teases, removing his gloves so he can wipe at the smudge with his thumb, somehow just making it worse.  “You’ve got red under your nails, too,” Liam says as he picks up the art teacher’s hand to examine it.  (Really, it’s just an excuse to hold Zayn’s hand—not that he needs one, of course.)

“Hazards of the job.  Also, I might have been in a rush to see my sexy mechanic today.”

“Oh, do I know him?” Liam teases, and Zayn snorts and rolls his eyes.  “So…pink and red paint.  Let me guess—you were making Valentines with your kiddos today.”

Zayn hooks a finger into Liam’s belt loop and smiles up at him.  “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”

“I try,” Liam chuckles, leaning in for another kiss—a little longer this time because Zayn’s lips are so soft and inviting, and he can’t resist.  As soon as they break away, he hears catcalls and whistles coming from the garage.  Liam turns around and merrily flips the guys off which only causes them to laugh louder.  Liam leads Zayn away from the window.  “How was school today, babe?”

“Brilliant as usual,” Zayn replies before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  “So you ready, babe?” he asks, taking Liam’s hand.  There’s a nervous excitement strumming through his fingers, flickering in those bright hazels.

“Of course,” Liam answers because it’s all he’s been thinking about all day.  “Just let me get cleaned up first.”  Then his gaze falls on Zayn’s face.  It’s a proper mess now between the streak of pink paint and grease smudges.  “Actually, you might want to come along, too,” he laughs.

Ten minutes later, they’re on their way, walking hand-in-hand to the flower shop just down the road.  They probably look ridiculous, Liam grinning like an idiot and Zayn swinging their joined hands, but Liam doesn’t care.  An old woman smiles at them as they pass by, and he thinks there’s nothing wrong with spreading a little more joy in the world.

They arrive at their destination, cheeks flushed from the exercise and the brisk February weather.  As they both expected, Louis is already there.  Liam’s best mate is lounging in one of the chairs, knackered after a long shift, while Harry, his boyfriend, fusses over a flower arrangement behind the shop’s long white counter.

“Alright, lads?” Louis greets them as they enter the shop, and Harry waves before returning his attention to the vase in front of him.  “Long time no see, Payno.”

Liam shares a conspiratorial look with Zayn.  “Yeah, we’re actually here on business.”

Harry looks up in surprise.  “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Liam continues, biting back a smile, “I was wondering if you guys could do the floral arrangements for a small wedding in June.”

“Absolutely!” Harry responds, gliding around the counter with a notepad and pen already in hand.  “Who’s it for?” 

“Us,” Zayn answers shyly, giggling as he slides his hand into Liam’s again. 

Louis shoots up off his chair like a rocket.  “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, lads!” he booms, joyously slapping them on the backs. 

Harry hugs them both.  “So when did this happen?”

“Last night,” they chorus, and Liam’s heart swells just thinking about it.

“Well,” Louis declares, “I vote we get smashed and celebrate tonight.  What do you say, lads?”

Liam turns to his new fiancé and softly caresses the side of his face.  He wonders how he could have gotten so lucky, wonders when he’s finally going to wake up.  “Babe?”

“I say someone better ring Niall,” Zayn replies, and they all laugh.

“I’m on it!” Louis calls out.  He whips out his mobile and settles back down into the chair.  They wait for him to call or text their friend, but Louis just sits there staring at his phone and shaking his head.

“Something wrong?” Liam asks.

Louis glances up, startled.  “No, I just can’t get over how you two got together.  _And then_ after Liam was a gutless pillock for six bloody weeks—no offence, mate—you found each other _again_.”  Louis shakes his head again in disbelief.  “It was a fucking chance in a million, that.”

“Wasn’t chance, Lou,” Harry tsks.  “’Chance is the fool’s name for fate.’”

Zayn scrunches his face up in a way that makes Liam want to kiss him more than he already does.  “Where’s that from?  Shakespeare?”

“Nope,” Harry answers.  “I might have nicked it from an old Astaire and Rogers film—but that doesn’t make it any less true,” he adds severely when Louis snorts.

“You’re such a romantic, Haz,” Louis chaffs but it comes off more doting than harsh.  In fact, Louis could be the spitting image of the heart-eyes emoji in human form.  (And Liam should know because he’s certain he’s looking at Zayn in the same exact way.)

His mates bicker about the veracity of the quote for another minute, and Liam takes a step back to remember this moment: remember the laughter, the fond expressions, and the way Zayn looks when he’s framed by bouquets of red, white, and pink roses.  Besides, Liam doesn’t know whether it was chance or fate that led him to Zayn.  He’ll let Harry and the others concern themselves with sorting out those questions.  No, all he knows is that he’s happy and he’s in love, and it all started with a double jalapeno pizza.

And that’s enough for him.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) xx  
> My tumblr: [zqua1d](http://zqua1d.tumblr.com/)


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